He Takes Riddling Too Seriously
by OnnaMurcielago666
Summary: "If a person offends you, and you are in doubt as to whether it was intentional or not, do not resort to extreme measures; simply watch your chance and hit him with a brick." Mark Twain (Dean swears, alluded-to gay sex- oh God, call the no-fun police and report me for rating it 'T'. -.-.)


"Tell me another," The plea bordered command, rolling across the tiny space between their bodies like the rumble of thunder. It curled against the soft shell of Dean's ear, whispering up his chest, and the hunter shivered slightly as the needy air to his lover's voice made his nerves tingle.

"I don't know any more good ones..." Dean murmured, letting his lover run icy fingers through the small trail of downy hazelnut curls carving its way down past his navel. And then Castiel rolled, turning his electric eyes up to Dean's, and he felt his insides flip.

"Sonofabitch." Dean grunted, "Fine, lemme think." Dean pulled his gaze away and closed his eyes to think, his arm pulling the angel's vessel a little closer. As he put his mind to use, the angel watched him and drank in the sight of Dean's face in the dim lamplight.

His lips, pursed tight and as puffy pink as his own.

His jaw and his neck, littered with dark possessive bruises that stood out like blood on fresh snow when compared to the soft tan of his skin. Castiel counted the tiny imprints of his vessel's teeth on one and smiled quietly to himself, pleased by the claim he'd staked there.

Dean's stubbly face, still flushed, and the delicate shadow and fall of his long lashes against his cheeks caught the angel's keen tunnel attention. Suddenly, he found himself counting the tiny fluttering hairs as Dean opened his eyes again and caught him staring intensely.

"You're staring," Dean said obviously, shifting under the angel's vessel.

"You're beautiful." Castiel left no room for argument and he smiled at the shock and surprise that illuminating Dean's features. "'_Mine heart was lifted up because of thy beauty,_"

"Cas," "_Thou hast corrupted my wisdom by reason of thy brightness:_"

"**Cas**," "_I will cast thee to the ground,_"

"CASTIEL!" Dean caught the vessel's face in his callused hands and, red-faced, demanded he stop. He waited for a second, scowling in a way that made the angel want to kiss him again, and let go slowly- warily.

"_I will lay thee before kings_," Castiel said tenderly, pushing himself up on his arms, "_that they may behold thee._" and he brushed his lips over Dean's with a sigh of plain delight. Dean didn't pull away, his lips feather-soft -and Castiel would **know**- against his own, and the angel sank into the touch with relish, devouring his mouth like a starving man.

Dean pushed him back first, his hand on Castiel's shoulder, and for a moment the angel's mind reeled. '_What?!_'

"Do you want another riddle or what, Cas?"

"Extremely." Quickly, Castiel was back down, his ear pressed back against Dean's chest, and he blinked up at the hunter expectantly, his eyes shining. Dean could've sworn the angel was suddenly some kind of puppy the way he looked at him, but he shook the thought away and sighed, taking a relaxing breath.

"'kay." Dean cleared his throat. "'_Alive without breath, As cold as death: Never thirsty, ever drinking, All in mail never clinking._'" He looked down at Castiel expectantly, his eyebrows rising into his hair at the sight of the angel's face screwing up in concentration, and laughed once. "What?" He asked, dragging his blunt nails over his scalp; usually the angel found it soothing. "Can't get it?"

"... I don't know how to feel about this, Dean," Castiel said quietly, sitting up and pulling out of arms' reach, his expression more pained than puzzled now.

"Cas'?" Dean frowned,

"I was aware that some qualities of my vessel were those you were less partial to, however I was unaware that they were so undesirable that you would seek to rhyme them to me."

"Cas!" Dean laughed again, smiling suddenly, and he tried to hide it as best he could. "no, Cas, that's not it."

"I would **prefer** for you not to use me as the star of your mockeries, Dean," Castiel said shortly, standing up and making to get out of bed without care for his nakedness. Dean choked on a laugh, but he reached out and caught Castiel's wrist to stop him from going much farther than the edge of the bed. "Dean. It would be excellent if you would **release me at once**."

"Fish." Dean chuckled, pulling insistently on Castiel's arm.

"What?" Castiel turned around and faced Dean, leaning over the human. "Dean Winchester, I am an angel of the Lord. I raised you from perdition itself and the skies bled for it. I will **not** be patronized by you, **human boy**, and 'fish' is what I would consider 'patronizing'!"

"The answer is fish, oh 'Angel of the Lord'." Dean said proudly, a grin splitting his lips as he sat up and pulled the angel onto his lap and back under the blankets. Castiel blinked, the anger melting into shock, and he looked at Dean, confused. "'_Alive without breath, As cold as death: Never thirsty, ever drinking, All in mail never clinking._' Get it? It's a Hobbit reference,"

"No," Castiel shook his head honestly and his forehead crinkled as his eyebrows crumpled together. "I do not understand you're riddle or this 'Hobbit' thing you speak of, Dean. Remember, I-"

"'-spent the last "year" as being a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent'." Dean sighed, nodded, "I know, I know. You're 'rusty'."

"Then you must understand how I took offence to such a misleading wordplay." Castiel insisted.

"Not really." Dean admitted, ruffling his own hair. "I mean, '_alive without breath,_'"

"I do not require breathing to sustain myself. No angel truly does, not even in a vessel. It's merely a flesh memory." Castiel gave Dean an example of it by simple stopping, his vessel going still, and he stared at the hunter with bright, knowing eyes until Dean demanded he continue.

"Creepy," Dean grunted, shaking his head. "But **still**! '_As cold as death_' couldn't be-" Castiel took that opportunity to tuck his hands against Dean's warmest extremity and the hunter greeted the touch with a rather unmanly shriek of "SWEET JESUS MARY JOSEPH **FUCK**!"

Castiel pulled back his hands, waving them near his ears like he'd seen on the jazzy TV show earlier than morning, and his face remained blank as the hunter tucked the blankets tight around his waist.

"Point made." He hissed, goosebumps on his flesh distracting Castiel briefly. "What was '_never thirsty, ever drinking_' then?" He eyed the angel dubiously, hoping this would be a better experience than the 'deadfishcold-hands-in-his-junk' one he'd just had.

"..." Castiel looked away, his face dusting with a faint pink. "Once I walked into a liquor store..."

"And what?" Dean asked sarcastically, "You binged on the place?" He rolled his eyes, rubbing his neck and waiting for Castiel's explanation.  
One that never came.

"..." Dean looked at Castiel, reading the 'kicked-puppy' written all over his unshaven face for what it was, and he burst into a laugh that ended with him lying back in the pillows and kicking his feet.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Dean stared at Castiel expectantly, hoping and knowing it was true. "YOU BINGED IN A LIQUOR STORE? HOW MUCH?"

"I drank it." Castiel admitted, his eyes on his lap.

"Yeah," Dean nodded and sat forward. "But how much of it?"

Castiel looked up and caught Dean by surprise. "All of it."

"'_All in mail never clinking._'" Dean choked, covering his mouth with one hand. He looked away from the angel, his shoulder shaking with effort, and didn't look back. "What's that?"

"Dean, I was once a warrior for God. My Father was my armour, as was my faith, and that shone like the stars themselves had fallen to the forges of my brethren to be hammered and make a home for themselves in the tiny plaits and links of my garments. Ephesians, six eleven. '_Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil._'"

Dean had sobered up in the midst of Castiel's speech, drinking the adorating tone he could hear saturating Castiel's voice in. He considered the riddle, what Castiel had told him, and felt his heat sink a little at the fact that he _could_ have meant Castiel.

"I wouldn't make fun of you like that, Cas," Dean said finally. "The answer **is** fish, and it's from an old book I read once." He met Castiel's eyes again, seeing nothing amiss in the angel's expression, and he pulled the smaller frame against his for a hug when he yawned. "Okay?"

"I still find this riddle of yours less 'fish'y than you," Castiel wrapped his arms around his waist and snuggled closer, letting his cold hands warm themselves under Dean's back, and yawned again against Dean's collarbone. "however, I assume you'll educate me of it in time."

"December thirteenth, babe." Dean said, as if it confirmed it, and Castiel chuffed once against his hot skin.

"Dean, I do not remember becoming your vehicle." Castiel shifted to get comfortable against him. "I am not something for you to ride."

And Dean just choked on another laugh as he reached over to turn off the lamp, refusing to tell the angel why he was laughing at him and curling around the angel's vessel to sleep.

"Oh **God **Cas, I-" "**Dean**," "Sorry."


End file.
